


damp from the rain

by sockablock



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Past Character Death, because at this point shes a smorgasboard of trauma, ep 83 spoilers!, im taking a Stance on Nott's internal monologue, it's a real emotional power hour y'all, let Nott be angry 2k19, or a soft one anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 22:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21289349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sockablock/pseuds/sockablock
Summary: “Nott, we…we need to talk.”She’d been expecting this. She leans back.“Alright then,” she says, and it’s not as soft as always. “Out with it, then. I know you’re mad.”Caleb sighs. His voice gives him away. He sits down in another empty chair.“You…didn’t check for traps.”(or: Nott lets her emotions out)
Relationships: Nott & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 10
Kudos: 162





	damp from the rain

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for episode 83 (i have a lot of feelings y'all)

It is later, and raining outside.

Somewhere else in the house, Fjord is helping Caduceus stack the dishes and clean. Jester and Beau went up to Yasha’s room, maybe to search for desperate clues, or to wait.

The world has been made aware of his return_—_of the plot of Tharizdun, the Chained Oblivion. And though the war on Wynandir still rages, at least the Queen and the Archive had listened. At least both sides had promised to prepare.

And so, the Mighty Nein had returned home. Returned to _a _home, anyway. 

Nott hears his footsteps shuffle through the door.

She looks up, sets her crossbow aside. Its handle has been polished once, and once again.

Caleb looks grim. His jaw, set and hard. He says:

“Nott, we…we need to talk.”

She’d been expecting this. She leans back.

“Alright then,” she says, and it’s not as soft as always. “Out with it, then. I know you’re mad.”

Caleb sighs. His voice gives him away. He sits down in another empty dining room chair. 

“You…didn’t check for traps.”

She nods. That much, at least, is true.

“I know. My fault. I won’t do it again.”

Caleb makes a quiet, twisted sound. Part of Nott wants to reach out, to reassure, to stroke his hair and tell him that she’d been fine. 

The other part of Nott is too angry to let that happen. Her crossbow has been polished once, twice, even more. Its handle gleams in the pale orange light.

Caleb says, “Nott, but…that is…you _died—_”

“I know, I know,” she says hurriedly. “I know, but Jester brought me back, right? And really, I’ll be more careful next time.”

Caleb gives her a long, low look. 

“Will you?”

“Of course.”

He glances down. 

“I don’t believe you.”

Nott throws her head back and shuts her eyes. “Well, that’s…that’s _fine_,” she says, after a while. “It’s not like I can _make _you, right?”

There’s a pause. And then the sound of scuffing wood, of Caleb dragging his chair toward hers. He comes to a stop and she can feel the weight, the heavy, pleading stare, the unrelenting force, she can know without seeing that his shoulders are curved, his elbows on knees, he’s bending to her level, trying to peer deeper, to understand—

He’s always been a clever boy.

And then, suddenly, she snaps. 

“So why _can’t _I be reckless?” she shouts. “Why _can’t _I forget? Why does it _matter _that I check for stupid _traps_?”

His confusion is palpable. She knows he’s leaning back.

“_Was_? But…you would…is that not obvious?”

“Is it?” Her eyes refuse to open. “_Is _it obvious? Tell me, then. Is it _really _because you care about me? Or is it just because I’m with the _group_?”

The sudden venom in her voice scares even her. Then she tastes it. 

She drinks it in.

Caleb is struggling to find the right words. Tentatively, he tries:

“Nott, ah…I know. I understand. This is…a lot. And different, and…too much.” His tone is soothing, placating, honey-sick. “But…but we have a _mission_, now, yes? We have an enemy, and a _everyone _to think about. We have…the _world _depends on our success—” 

“_So what_?!”

There’s a pause.

“_B—_excuse me?”

She hadn’t meant to say that. Now, she has. 

She whirls around, and her nails cut into wood. “So _what_?” she repeats, through jagged teeth. “So _what _if the world is about to end? So _what _if suddenly, it’s all going wrong? So what if we fuck up and so _what _if we lose? So _what _if you think everyone’s going to die?!”

“Wh—_Nott_!” Caleb blinks. “But—how could you _say _tha—”

“_Because I’m dead!” _she screams, rips through the night. “_Because I died! _Because…because_ I’m_ already _gone_.” 

In the silence that passes, she makes a fist. Her crossbow, at her side, has been polished so deeply that the metal handle shines like a mirror.

They are still.

Nott goes first.

“I…of course I care about you,” she mutters. “Of _course _I care about the group. But…you’re not the only ones I care about. And I’ve lost _so much _time with…the rest.”

Her shoulders tremble. Her arms fall.

“Even now, sometimes, you all treat me like a kid. Like I don’t check for traps because I don’t know any better. And…okay. Sometimes, I do forget. But sometimes, Caleb…sometimes, I just _don’t _care.”

This time, he’s the one who looks away.

He manages, “I see.”

“I know it’s selfish. I know it’s cold.” Her voice is shaking, a breaking breath. “And I _know _that you….you were right to not trust him. But…in the Dreadnaught, when we saw those spells, I—for the first time, my _only _goal wasn’t a dream. It was…Caleb, it was _possible_. Halas could have _done _it. And I know,” her hand goes up, “I _know _what you’ll say. I’m not an idiot, I _know _that he isn’t a good man. But for that second, for that…moment, none of that mattered. It just mattered that I’d found a way. I could go home. I could be…_me_, again. I had a _way, _and, and, and…isn’t it _natural _that I wanted to take it? Doesn’t it make sense that I wanted to accept it? Don’t I _deserve _a little hope? Haven’t I _earned _a little selfishness?”

Her fist goes slack.

“You get it, don’t you, Caleb? You of _all _people know should what it’s like when you finally find your way.”

Eventually, he nods.

That old part of Nott, soft and patient, steals a sentence.

“I…I don’t blame you,” she mumbles. “I don’t…I don’t think so. I _know _you were…right. I’m just…I mean, look at me. What even _am _I, anymore?” She gestures to herself, a half-grin full of razors. “I used to be someone. And then I died.”

Caleb instantly begins, “But you are _Nott_—”

“I wasn’t always,” she says it gently, even now. “You just never knew her. Now _I_ barely do.”

There’s a faint hum of acknowledgement.

“…_ja, _but there are still two people who did. Very well.”

He’s always been a clever boy.

“Yeah,” Nott agrees. “And I miss that, _every _day.”

Somewhere in the house, a lonely floorboard creaks. A window opens to the humid, silent breeze.

“I am sorry.”

“I know. And I’m just angry.”

“I…_ja_, well, you certainly have more of a right than I do to be upset about your own death.”

Nott snorts, and shakes her head. 

“Yeah. And I don’t know if I’ll stop being mad. But…still, I _do _get it. It just…it really has been a _lot_. And if it means…well, anything, at all, I…I really _don’t _want to die again. Not when I’m this…well, this close. And not around you guys. You can believe me, or not.”

She hears him shuffle around in his chair. And then Caleb says:

“Okay. But on one condition.”

She turns. She raises her brow.

He is meeting her gaze, crouched so low that now he is almost looking up at her.

“I _swear _to you, Nott the—to you, _Veth_, that I will do _everything _in my power to finish the spells. And to bring you back. And to make sure that, above all else, you will make it home.”

He doesn’t blink. She doesn’t turn away.

“I _swear_ this to you. And I hope that you believe me.”

And eventually, she nods.

Caleb leans back.

“Okay then. Okay. That means we both now have promises to fulfill.”

“Right,” she says softly. “Right. I won’t die. And I’ll…do my best not to put _anyone _in danger.”

“And I will complete the ritual,” he repeats. “I will do this thing for you. And I…I will not pretend to always understand.”

She gives him a funny smile, at that.

“You weren’t,” she tells him. “You were just doing your best.”

Caleb lifts an eyebrow. “I…I think you might be enabling me, my friend. Your praise is…not always deserved.”

She leans over, and pats him on the arm. 

“I know,” she says. “I’m just doing _my _best.”

It’s a familiar gesture. 

It helps.

And then, Nott stands up from her chair. She points at the ceiling, gives Caleb a nod.

“I think I want to go outside,” she says. “Just for a little bit. To clear my head. Do you want to come?”

He knows he finds the smile.

“Of course,” he says. “I always do.”

Nott brushes off her dress and puts away her crossbow. Caleb stands too, motions for her to lead, and together, they wander up to the roof.

It is damp from the rain, but the stars are bright.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm slowly getting back into the swing of writing fic and this might be a somewhat different take on Nott's internal monologue, but I hope you still enjoyed this story!
> 
> (and as always, you can find me as @sockablock on tumblr <3)


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